


The Arrival of Nine

by TheDuckofIndeed



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: And he's not too happy about it, Demyx joins the Organization, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, pre-KH3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-29 00:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDuckofIndeed/pseuds/TheDuckofIndeed
Summary: If Dyme thought the Heartless invasion of his world was bad, just wait until he's taken through a portal by a man in an eye patch and forced to join a group called Org. XIII, who actually have the nerve to make him…do stuff. As if that wasn't bad enough, they can't even keep their fridge stocked with orange juice…. Just a little story involving Demyx's first days with the Org.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story back in 2014, so this was before we had new hints as to Demyx's backstory. This was also originally going to be a longer story, but then I realized I didn't feel like it and settled with 4 chapters.

All that Dyme remembered of when the Heartless invaded his hometown was panic and confusion at first, and then the Heartless began to latch onto all those around him, covering them up like a squirming, black shroud, before their victims just…disappeared as their hearts were devoured. And then they were upon him, too, and he couldn’t get away, and then…

Blackness.

And now he was cold. And numb. Not like in his body, though, but in his chest. He really should feel something after what had happened. But, he didn’t. Just emptiness. Was _that_ a feeling?

He lay, unmoving, face down on something hard and rough and cold. How he had survived the attack, he had no idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He didn’t know what he’d see. More Heartless or just empty, lifeless streets? He didn’t want to see either.

Why’d all the bad things have to happen to him anyway? He had just turned 15, and in less than a year now, he was going to quit school and become a wandering musician. And he wouldn’t get bullied anymore because he would no longer be a loser. So much for _that_ dream.

The teen groaned and turned his head, eyes still closed. He’d have to open them eventually. Unless they _were_ open already, and he was just dead. It was silent enough and cold enough for death. But, if you could feel and hear when you were dead (the only thing audible was himself, but that was still a sound), shouldn’t you be able to see, as well?

Dyme forced his eyes open, his cheek resting on a cobblestone street. This place didn’t look like his home at all. At least, not from this angle. He pushed himself up to get a better view of his new location, finding himself in some sort of a square lined with old-fashioned buildings and several large, wooden gates in tall walls. Strange, crooked street lamps were all lit in response to nighttime, and seeing as no one was out and no light shone from the windows, Dyme could only figure it must be very late.

He rose to his feet. Why was he so shaky? He brushed off his clothes, not so much because they were dirty as from procrastination. Then, his head shot up, and he spun in a circle. No fair! Where was his guitar? And why wasn’t he more upset by the loss of his most precious possession? He loved that guitar. Even more than he loved rocky road ice cream, and he loved absolutely anything with marshmallows. The only thing that would make his guitar better was if _it_ was made with marshmallows. Okay, no, maybe that would be a little weird….

“Ah, man.” The words came out in a monotone. What was wrong with him?

He hung his head and sniffed. He should be crying right now. No matter what people said, it was okay to cry sometimes. Especially when you woke up alone in some weird town in the middle of the night, with no guitar. But, try as he may, he couldn’t muster up any sort of emotion. He looked up and forced a frown. There.

Dyme rubbed his arms. It sure was cold out. And he didn’t have a jacket. With nothing better to do, he began walking, in no direction in particular. He stopped to stare at a rather bizarre postbox before heading up some steps. As he walked down the street, hugging himself for warmth, he considered the doors he passed. It was late, but if he knocked on one, would he find any help? Eventually, he decided against it. Nah, strangers could be mean. And they’d probably just be mad at him for waking them up.

He reached a door that didn’t lead into a building, but through a wall. He considered it for a moment before he shrugged and went through. Can’t get anymore lost than I already am. He found himself in a larger space than where he had woken up, lined with various stores, all closed for the night, and a hotel. His hands went down to check his pockets for munny. Maybe he could at least get a room to stay for the night. He hated being out in the dark. That’s why he still had a nightlight in the hallway, even at his age. Nothing good ever happened at night. This night was proof of that. But, after rummaging around for longer than was needed for such small spaces, he found his pockets to be empty, save for a single, blue guitar pick.

Dyme held the object in the palm of his hand, and as he stared at it, he just knew it was making fun of him. Not only was Dyme a loser, scaredy-cat, but he was broke and couldn’t find his guitar. He raised his arm over his head and tossed the pick with all his might. It didn’t go very far, however, simply landing several feet away, where it bounced once on its edge before going still.

“Stupid pick.” There was too little emotion in his voice. It was frustrating and yet…it wasn’t. Why can’t I at least feel frustrated? Give me that much! “Stupid…stupid me!” That last bit he yelled much louder than he intended, the lack of feeling making it sound even more foolish. A light flicked on from the upper story of one of the buildings nearby, no doubt in response to his outburst.

“Looks like we got another one. Just a scrawny kid, though. We already have a few of those.”

His head shot over to the sound of a voice. Someone in a black coat stood a short distance away, a man by the sound of the voice, face invisible under a dark hood. The darkness of the man’s attire made him almost impossible to spot at this late hour. How long had he been standing there anyway? He didn’t even hear him walk up.

Dyme took a few steps back, more out of instinct than from fear. After losing his home to the Heartless and finding himself alone in a strange town in the middle of the night, alone except for a man in a black coat, he really should be afraid. Heck, spiders in a brightly lit room freaked him out enough as it was. And yet, right now, he still couldn’t feel a thing.

The man strode forward. “So, what brings you to Traverse Town?”

Dyme backed up further. “I-I don’t know.”

The man laughed. “That was actually a rhetorical question. I know exactly why you’re here. Unless I’m mistaken,” he stopped as he put his hands on his hips and shook his head, “I’d say that you lost your heart to the darkness.”

“But, I didn’t do anything wrong.” He knew Heartless could steal a person’s heart, but it still couldn’t be _that_ simple. It wasn’t fair. At least, this guy didn’t have to say it like he did something bad.

The man laughed again. Nothing about this was funny. “Didn’t have to. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. And sometimes, bad things happen to bad people.” He put a hand to his chin. “Huh, I guess that confirms it. Bad things happen to everyone. What do ya know.”

“Am I a Heartless?”

The man snorted. “As if.” He chuckled and continued, “Looks like I have a lot of explaining to do. What’s your name, kid?”

Should he give his name out to this weirdo? His grandma always told him not to even talk to strangers in the first place. But, she wasn’t here right now. He had no idea _where_ she might be, but she certainly wasn’t here. “Dyme.”

“Dyme, huh? That’s a strange name. Listen, Dyme, I think it’s time you got a new name. I think I’m gonna call you…” Was this guy crazy? He couldn’t just give someone a new name. “Demyx. Not bad, huh? Much better than your _old_ name.”

“No. Change it back.”

“Too late. Already changed it. Wouldn’t want to go hurtin’ my feelings, now would you?”

No one was changing his name. It was Dyme. Always was. Always would be.

“Well, look at me. How impolite. I haven’t introduced _myself_ yet.” The man grabbed his hood with one hand and pulled it back. “Name’s Xigbar.”

This man was going to kill him. Never before had Dyme seen a man as terrifying as this one. The man before him had a long, black ponytail streaked with grey, with one eye covered by an eye patch. The other side of his face had a long, jagged scar running diagonal across his cheek, ending just under his one good eye, an eye that was an inhuman golden color.

The man smiled, a toothy grin that only made him look even more like he was going to murder Dyme any moment now. “Hey, I’d almost say you were scared right now, if that was possible.” Until this man, this _Xigbar_ , mentioned it, Dyme hadn’t even realized his back was pressed up against the wall of the building behind him. Xigbar wagged a finger at him. “Don’t go judging people on their appearances, though. If we all did that, I’d assume you were a skinny, little dork.”

“Am not.”

“Didn’t say you were. I’m saying _if_ I was judging you based on your looks.”

Just then, a black portal rose up out of nowhere. What was going on _now_? The man gestured to it with one arm as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. “In ya go. I’m takin’ you home.”

Dyme highly doubted the home this man was referring to was the same one he had in mind.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna murder you,” Xigbar added, which was less than reassuring, especially when the man kept grinning at him like that.

This was horribly and utterly against what his grandma had taught him. She never needed to specifically warn him not to go through an evil looking portal with a terrifying man in a black coat, and she didn’t need to. Dyme shook his head.

“Don’t make me carry you. That would make both of us look pretty silly.”

Could he outrun this guy? Probably not. The man watched him, his wolf-like golden eye half-closed, but no less sharp. “Don’t even think about it.” As if resigning himself to the fact that further explanation was obviously necessary, the way Dyme showed no signs of budging, the man started to stroll forward. “You wanna know why you ended up in this strange town, with no emotions, right? The whole reason you’re here is because the Heartless swallowed up your world, and you can’t feel because they also took your heart.” He stopped before Dyme and poked him in the chest. “You’re a Nobody now, just like me.”

Dyme hung his head. “I’m not a nobody.” Strangers were mean.

“Not _that_ kind of nobody. You’re certainly the most sensitive Nobody I’ve ever met, though.” Xigbar moved to stand beside him and put an arm around Dyme’s shoulders. “Now come on. I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

The man led him to the portal, only exerting more force when Dyme attempted to drag his feet. No way was his heart really gone. It couldn’t be. He was just numb after what had happened. And his world was gone, too? How could the Heartless eat an entire world? This man had to be lying. There was no way… And his grandma…

Dyme stopped just before the blackness of the portal. “I don’t want to go in there.”

“Too bad.”

***---***

It was cold. _So_ cold. No, it wasn’t cold, it was _freezing_ in here! Corridors of Darkness? Was that what the man called this place? He hadn’t been paying much attention because he wanted out. And then when he finally was, he immediately wanted to escape from his newest location.

They were now surrounded by tall, dark buildings, looming over him and watching him with countless, empty windows. Like Traverse Town, it was also nighttime here, and the streets were empty, but something about this place just felt…wrong. No life resided behind those windows like it did in Traverse Town. He didn’t need to see it to know. Further inspection of his surroundings found a most bizarre tower, raised up on steps, with a jumble of screens at the top. As he stared upwards, trying to figure out just what in the worlds those screens were even _for_ , a drop of rain landed in his eye, and he immediately looked down and blinked to rid himself of the discomfort it had caused.

He heard the portal close behind him and the man’s footsteps as Xigbar strode by. “Welcome to the World That Never Was. Nice place, huh? Always cold and dark and rainy, and there’s not a thing to be found here but Heartless and us.” He laughed. “It’s quiet, at least.”

“What’s that?” Dyme pointed to the strange tower as the light drizzle began to pick up.

“That? Memory’s Skyscraper. Kinda creepy, huh?”

“Well, what _is_ it?”

“How should _I_ know? I didn’t put it there.” Xigbar started to head for a street leading off past the tower. Without looking back, he waved for Dyme to follow. “Come on.”

Not wanting to be left alone in this empty place, he ran to catch up with the man. “Where are we going now?”

“You ask a lotta questions, kid. We’re goin’ to the Castle That Never Was. I could’ve taken you straight there, but I thought I’d show you the city first.”

“The Castle That Never Was? Like the _World_ That Never Was?” They certainly had a habit of giving things long names here. Didn’t they have a way to shorten them?

“Aren’t _you_ insightful.”

“So what’s the city called? The _City_ That Never Was?”

Xgbar chuckled. “Could be.”

Dyme started to shiver. By now, he was soaking wet, and rain was dripping from his hair into his face. He wiped water away from his eyes. How could Xigbar stand it? The man didn’t look perturbed at all. He had a hood. Why didn’t he use it? Dyme certainly would have.

“So you’re probably wondering what happens when we get to the castle.”

Dyme nodded. Well, he actually wasn’t wondering because he was so focused on the rain, but now that Xigbar mentioned it…

“You’ll have to speak up. If the eye patch is any indication, I can’t see you on that side.”

“Yeah, I guess. Nothing scary’s gonna happen, right?” He didn’t even notice he was on the man’s blindside. Was there some kind of half-blind person etiquette? Wait, was that weird? That certainly wasn’t a question he’d voice out loud.

The man laughed again. How was it, if they were both Nobodies, that Xigbar could laugh when Dyme couldn’t? At least, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to without it sounding fake. “No, nothing scary. I’m just bringin’ you to our Superior so you can join the Organization.”

Dyme stopped in his tracks. This had gone on far enough. “No, I’m-I’m not joining any...Organization.”

Xigbar turned to face him fully. “Oh, yes, you are.”

He shook his head wildly from side to side. No. He was getting himself a new guitar, and he was going to be a wandering musician. Once he got out of this creepy city, that is.

“You can shake your head ‘til it falls off. You _are_ joinin’ the Organization, and there’s nothing more to it.”

“No. No, I can’t! I…” He started to back away, something he had been doing quite a lot of today, while the man did little more but watch him with an amused expression on his face. Dyme’s hands formed into fists, and he tried to stand taller, the most defiant stance he knew, which probably wasn’t very defiant at all. “I…I’m going to become a wandering musician. Just like I always planned on. I can’t join this Organization you’re talking about.” He crossed his arms. Just because he was a Nobody now, that certainly didn’t mean he had to give up on his dreams. …Did it?

Dyme’s hope that Xigbar would see reason was dashed as soon as the man burst into laughter.

“It’s not funny! Stop laughing at me!” the teen said, with much less conviction than he would have liked.

“Is that all you got? You think I care about some kid’s goofy, little dreams? As if! Listen, Demyx…”

“It’s not Demyx. It’s Dyme.”

“ _Demyx_. The sooner you stop fighting it, the easier it’ll be. What kind of musician can you be with no heart? If you join the Organization, you can get your heart back. See…” he held up one hand, palm facing up, “join the Organization and become a Somebody again,” and then the other, “then you can do whatever you darn well please with your life. Plain and simple.”

Dyme wanted to cry. He couldn’t, but he wanted to. Not that it would make any difference to _this_ guy, though.

Receiving no response, Xigbar continued, “So quit grimacing at me like that and let’s go.” After the teen still made no reply, he turned away. “Fine, suit yourself,” he said, before starting to make his way down the street again. Without looking back, he gave one last wave, “Have fun out here.”

Dyme forced himself to sniffle as the rain grew stronger and streamed down his face. The only tears he could manage, it seemed, were not really tears at all. He never would have guessed that when he woke up this morning, everything he cared about would be gone by the end of the day. And the worst thing of all was that he couldn’t even grieve over any of it. His chest was as empty and as hollow as the buildings that surrounded him.

He wiped more rainwater from his face and looked off down the street. The man was already lost from sight, Dyme’s vision hindered by the downpour creating a white haze in all directions. He gave up on his attempts at emotion and walked a ways, feet splashing in puddles forming on the asphalt, until he found a covered area that could shield him from the storm. He went under it, getting drenched extra, not that it made much of a difference at this point, from the curtain of rain pouring down around the edge of the overhang, and peered through the glass doors at the lobby within. A _fake_ lobby. No people had ever gone through it, had they? He forced his gaze away and sat down with his back to the building.

Well, this was a rotten way to spend his time. Not that things were that great before, getting picked on by the other kids in school because he wasn’t as cool or as tough (or as hairy, but Dyme didn’t really want to be hairy) as the other guys. Even his friends were jerks. Hey, he was a nice guy. Shouldn’t that count for something? His grandma said that was the most important thing of all. But now, his grandma was gone.

He buried his face in his hands. His grandma had been like a mom to him, ever since his own mom had died of some illness he had forgotten the name of because he had been little at the time and because he had never bothered to ask about it when he got older. And that was after his father left and was never heard from again. Everything in his life was rotten, aside from his grandma and his music. His guitar had kept him company on countless afternoons. Sometimes he’d play in his room, and other times, he’d sit on the beach when no one was around and play and sing as the waves and the seagulls joined in. He had gotten pretty good at both, too. Playing and singing, that is. Not sitting on the beach. Well, he was fine at that, too, but that was a lame talent. And now, he didn’t know when he’d ever get to do those things again. He supposed he could still sing, but without any feeling, what would be the point? Maybe there wouldn’t really be much point in playing his guitar, either, even if he had it. And he had left his stupid pick back in Traverse Town.

“Gosh, kid, I really thought you were gonna follow me. What gives?”

Dyme looked up at the sound of a familiar voice to find Xigbar standing there in the rain with his hood up. He came under the overhang, rain dripping from his coat, and offered a gloved hand. The teen stared at it for a moment, unsure of what was meant by the gesture, before taking it, the leather of the man’s glove cold and wet.

Xigbar helped him to his feet. “So…any more objections, or are you ready? The castle may not be warm, but it’s dry, at least. And you can get yourself into some better clothes before ya see the Superior.”

Dyme sighed, more just an exhalation of air, really, and gave a weak nod.

“Good. Let’s get you inside.” Another portal opened up beside the man.

“We gotta go through one of those again?”

“Would you rather walk in the rain some more?”

No, he did not. Only after a short bout of hesitation, which quickly ended when he took another glance at the deluge of rain taking place just a few feet away, he went through the portal, eyes closed, not just because he didn’t want to see that dark place again, but because he had no idea what was waiting for him on the other end.


	2. Failure

Dyme didn’t care much for the Superior, a truly bizarre man named Xemnas who had silver hair and talked much too slowly. At least that was proof that Nobodies could certainly feel bored. He also didn’t like his new outfit, a black coat, black pants, and tall boots just like Xigbar wore. He never was a fan of black. Now he looked like those weird goth kids at school, another group that pushed him around and looked extra scary while doing it. The castle was also much too white, the ivory walls adorned only with grey, geometric shapes in random patterns. Did these people hate color or what? And as if that wasn’t enough, this creepy, blue-haired guy with twin scars on his forehead in the shape of an X (how in the worlds could _that_ have happened?) named Saix wanted him to write in a diary, and Dyme didn’t write anything but music. But, worst of all was being forced to stand in this room with these ridiculously tall seats while a bunch of people with less-than-friendly faces stared down at him as the Superior took his sweet time introducing him not only by the wrong name, Demyx, but as number 9. _Number_ 9? He was starting to feel like he wasn’t a person at all anymore.

And now the teen was on his bed, reclining against the headboard, a rather tacky thing, complete with a strange, upside-down heart shape that seemed to be all too common in this place. He currently had one hand behind his head, while the other rested on his stomach. It was much too quiet and plain in here. Like the rest of the castle, his room was all white and grey, with no furniture but the bed. The first thing he needed to do was get some blue bed sheets. With fish on them. A single, large window looked out over the city, a view that managed to give him the creeps even without a heart. That city looked like it went on forever. Why was it even here if no one actually lived in it? And he had finally confirmed what Xigbar had said. No matter how many times he tried, he could not feel his pulse. And he was pretty sure he was doing it right and everything. Now _that_ was creepy.

There was a knock on the door. Who could that be? He hoped it was one of the lesser scary people. Dyme stared at the door, halfway considering pretending to not be in, but resigned himself to getting to his feet and trudging over.

“Hey, anybody in here? Or am I just wasting my time?”

That wasn’t a voice he recognized. Dyme opened the door (a sliding door, for whatever reason, which made sense for a grocery store, but not really for a bedroom) to see a man not too much older than him, with a mane of fiery red hair and two small tear-shaped markings under his eyes. He remembered this guy. Who could forget someone that had such wild and brightly colored hair?

“Hi?”

“It’s nice finally not being the low man on the totem pole anymore. I’m Axel. Got it memorized?” The man pointed to his temple, and Dyme simply blinked at him. Why wouldn’t he?

“Sure. I’m Dyme.”

“From what _I_ remember, the boss man says your name is Demyx. I know having your name changed takes some getting used to, but save yourself the trouble and just accept it. I fought it, too, and it didn’t get me anywhere.”

The teen tried to manage a grin. This guy seemed okay, even though he was determined to get his name wrong, but so did everyone else. It was Dyme. Get _that_ memorized.

Axel gave half a chuckle. “Still having trouble with the no-heart thing?”

“Why, does my face look weird?” He needed to find a mirror so he could see for himself what facial expressions he was making at people. He sure hoped he didn’t look too ridiculous.

The man shook his head. “No, you’re fine.” But, based on Axel’s expression, Dyme must have looked anything but fine. For all he knew, he was going around with all kinds of idiotic expressions on his face.

“Anyway,” the man interrupted Dyme’s self-conscious musings, “I came here because they think I should be the one to train you. I’ve never really trained anyone to do anything before, but I guess I’ll give it a go. It’s not raining outside anymore, so I guess we can do it out there.”

“Hold on a second. Train me to do what?” This whole ordeal just kept getting worse and worse. The Organization certainly couldn’t expect him to _do_ anything, could they? He didn’t even want to join in the first place.

“It’s no big deal. You just need to learn a few basic things. Like opening portals and how to fight. Stuff like that.”

He didn’t like the sound of any of that. This was bad. Wait, fight? This was _really_ bad. What was he going to be fighting anyway? He was going to die. He knew it. “I-I can’t fight. I’ve never… Look how scrawny I am,” Dyme said, indicating a flat stomach. Well, that was a bad argument. Axel was even thinner than he was. The guy was sorely in need of a sandwich. Dyme could use a sandwich right about now.

“And that’s why I have to teach you. If you have a problem, you’ll have to take it up with Saix.” Axel extended an arm out from his side to summon a portal in the hallway. “Let’s just get this over with, okay? I don’t want to do this anymore than _you_ do.”

Great. _More_ people telling him what to do. There must be something about the teen’s face that said to people, “Hey, boss me around.” Dyme went through the portal with one thing in mind. Once he learned how to make these things, he was running away.

They arrived out in front of the strange tower again, the air containing a sharp chill that cut right through his leather coat, but not a drop of rain could be felt, just as Axel had said. With the air devoid of the misty haze it held last time he was out here, he was able to make out a massive structure in the distance, a positively enormous white building with dozens of towers and spires sticking off in all directions. Now _that_ was one castle. And floating above it, he could just make out a small, glowing object. An object that appeared to be in the shape of…a heart?

“You ready?”

Dyme spun around to face the other man. “What is that thing above the castle?”

“Oh, that. Didn’t you listen to a word the Superior said? I’m sure he told you about Kingdom Hearts. Once it gets big enough, we can get our hearts back and be Somebodies again. At least, that’s what they say.”

Perhaps he could still be a wandering musician someday, after all. If this fighting Axel mentioned didn’t kill him first. Oh, why’d he have to go and lose his heart? He had a habit of losing things, but this time, it wasn’t even his fault.

“Hey, if we’re just gonna get our hearts back anyway, can’t we just kick back and wait?” What was with everyone’s obsession with getting stuff done? The world would be such a better place if people stopped being expected to do stuff all the time.

“No, we won’t get our hearts back until _we_ complete Kingdom Hearts. You just zoned out during his entire spiel, didn’t you?”

Well, it wasn’t _his_ fault. The guy takes forever to say _anything_.

“So can’t we just _say_ you trained me and be done with it?”

Apparently not. If Dyme had known all this effort was going to be involved in joining the Organization, he would have fled as soon as Xigbar showed up. Not that the guy wouldn’t have just dragged him through the portal in the end anyway, but Dyme certainly could’ve put up a better fight, at least. He was a musician. Musicians didn’t need to do work. Their music was their work. He spent his time writing and playing music, and all this other stuff was pointless. Work was meant for people that didn’t have better things to do.

They spent the next hour in a fruitless cycle, where Axel showed Dyme how to do one thing or another, while Dyme more or less stunk at it. This was stupid. He didn’t need to know how to make portals appear or do magic. So what if Axel could make a fireball out of thin air? How would that help _him_? He hated fire anyway.

Hours later, Axel had the palms of both hands pressed to his forehead after Dyme tried and failed dozens of times and more to make something, anything happen. He didn’t even know what he was doing. Was he supposed to think certain thoughts? Make some kind of secret hand gesture? What? Axel may as well ask him to grow fins and swim around the sea like a fish (which would be pretty awesome, by the way).

“Look, we’re not gonna get anywhere if you won’t even try,” Axel said.

“I _am_ trying. This just isn’t my thing. Can we go back yet?” Dyme’s head hurt from all this nonsense. If he thought impossible thoughts for much longer, his head would explode. He needed a nap.

Axel’s hands dropped back down to his sides. “Believe me, I’d love it if I wasn’t ordered to be your babysitter for the day. But, I’m just doing what Saix told me.” He sighed. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Dyme crossed his arms, gaze directed at the ground between them. “I don’t even know what to try in the first place. Just because _you_ can do something, it doesn’t mean that _I_ can.” Music was the only thing he was good at. Take that away, and he was nothing, just like everyone said.

“You’ve really never done any magic before?”

The teen shook his head. Some of the other kids at school could, but he had never been able to do it himself. Not that he had ever tried that hard to begin with, but still.

“Then, I don’t know how to explain it to you. We all have it in us. All you have to do is focus on that and…well, do it.”

Just do it. _That_ was helpful. Fine, let’s see if _this_ random effort does the trick. Dyme returned his arms to his sides, squinched his eyes closed, and concentrated really hard. Okay. Scary, dark portal. I’ve _seen_ them before, so now I just need to make one appear. Um…come here, creepy portal thing. Pretty please? One eye shot open, but the only thing in sight was the redhead, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Dyme closed his eyes again, partly to avoid the bored look the man was giving him, but try as he may, nothing he did had any effect. Finally, he opened his eyes, shoulders sagging.

“I just can’t get it.”

“Sure you can. Everyone else learned it just fine. Hey, where are you going?”

Dyme headed for the tower. He’d never get it. Why bother trying? Maybe if the Organization saw he was useless, they’d let him go.

“You can’t just give up,” Axel said.

He turned back to the other man and plopped down on the tower steps. Oh, yes he could. That was one thing no one could keep him from doing. He rested his head on one fist and gave the man a stubborn stare. At least, that was the expression he intended, though he probably messed that up, too.

“Well, this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my free time.” Axel raised both hands in defeat. “Fine, forget it. I tried. I’m not gonna stick around and watch you just sit there.”

Dyme’s eyes fell to Axel’s feet as the man disappeared through a portal, a portal he was incapable of making himself. He gave a deep sigh and continued to stare at the ground. Would the Organization let him go, then? Problem was, though, he needed his heart back, and he likely wouldn’t be able to do that without their help. Stick around with these people or never have a heart again. Neither option was very appealing.

He looked up at a sky completely devoid of stars. It wasn’t even that the clouds were covering them up. They simply weren’t there. Were they all gone or did this world merely exist (or not exist, as he was told that it didn’t really exist to begin with, just like him) in a place without them? He had heard rumors that there were other worlds beside his own (and he supposed this world confirmed that, even if it didn’t exist). That the stars were other worlds, very far away, where other people lived as he did, with their own hopes and dreams and worries. But here, there were no stars. The sky was empty. There was nothing out there, just like there was nothing in his chest and nowhere for him to go.

Dyme spent the next he didn’t know how long sitting on those steps, thinking about all the things he had had just a day ago and wondering which ones he might get back someday. He could get another guitar, and maybe the Organization really would help him get his heart back. But, would he ever see his home again if the Heartless ate it? And his grandma. Was there any way she had survived, if he had?

Eventually, the silence was really starting to get to him. This place was so quiet and still, like it was dead. A dead city. Not even a breeze stirred to break the stagnant, unnatural hush of the empty city streets. Dyme stood and looked about at all the countless buildings that surrounded him that seemed to stretch on without end. Why would there be a city that no one lived in? Cities were meant for people. Cities were _built_ by people. But, there were none here. No one to have built it or to live in it once it was built. Only them, and they weren’t even considered real people, were they? Only Nobodies. And Nobodies didn’t exist.

The teen took off running to the other end of the square and looked down the street that ran off to the left, as empty as all the others, then spun around to face the tower again, craning his neck to see the jumble of screens high above. No images could be found on them, however. Only dead static. What was in that tower? Just empty rooms? Just tables and chairs and other furniture that were useless because there was no one around to use them? All those buildings, for all he knew, were just empty voids, and if he walked into one, maybe he’d never come back out again. Maybe he’d simply get swallowed up, because those weren’t really buildings at all, just hollow shells made to _look_ like buildings, just like he looked like Dyme on the outside, but wasn’t really anymore.

He staggered away from the buildings nearest him to end up in the center of the square. He could almost swear he could feel real fear right now. Almost. And then he began to run again, down the street where Xigbar had led him when he had first arrived in this place. The castle filled the sky ahead of him, a structure that would be ominous if not for the fact that the city outside was no better, perhaps worse, because at least _someone_ resided in the rooms of the castle, even if those someone’s didn’t actually exist. He continued to run towards the massive building before him, the only brightly-colored thing in an otherwise monotonous expanse of darkness, as the streets gradually sloped up to meet it, but no matter how long he ran, he didn’t seem to be getting any closer.

He looked back, as if to make sure the buildings he had just passed were not now closing in around him, only to stop short, nearly teetering off the edge of the most impossibly large crater. The castle floated over it, no indication visible of how it managed such a feat, its lower levels spinning slowly and silently. More empty buildings could be seen surrounding the crater, watching him, but he couldn’t get away from them. The castle was too far away to reach, and he would never be able to summon up the black portal that would allow him to flee to the safety of his room. Not in a million years.

Just as he was considering screaming for help once he caught his breath, even if that was a pretty dumb idea, but what else could he do, a translucent walkway appeared for him. He stared at it. Did he do magic? You now what, who cared? He started to run again, hoping this thing wouldn’t suddenly decide to just give out beneath him, and once his feet reached solid ground again, he stopped to glance back at the city he had just fled from. It just looked so…hungry.

He turned away, his pace picking back up into a sprint again as he headed further into the castle, thankful that, thus far, there was only one direction to go, or else his current fears (or whatever the word would be for a Nobody) of becoming hopelessly lost in one of those empty buildings would surely come true in this castle. After some time, as he began to wonder how he had suddenly come into possession of this superhuman stamina, he ran into a tall and thin man with long, blonde hair, their collision sending the man staggering back in such a way, it was a wonder he managed to stay upright, as the air was split with the sound of breaking glass. His sprinting interrupted, Dyme collapsed into a sitting position, panting in exhaustion.

Once the man had recovered from his initial shock, he set his sights first on the broken containers on the floor as several kinds of liquid began to merge together into a single puddle, a tendril of smoke starting to rise out from it, and then on the teen sitting before him. One eye twitched. “Look what you’ve done! Didn’t anyone tell you not to run in the halls? You children are like animals!”

Why did everyone have to get angry at him? Soon, he’d be enemies with everyone in the entire castle! Maybe being a nice guy wasn’t enough, after all. You were wrong, grandma.

“S-sorry,” was all he dared to say, not that he had the breath to say much more after his recent excursion.

“Sorry’s not going to clean up this mess.”

As the man ranted at him, looking ready to pop a blood vessel, Dyme came to the conclusion that running would be a fine solution to this problem, as well. He got to his feet and stared at the man a moment longer as he readied himself, then simply ran by.

“Don’t you run away when I’m talking to you! Come back here, you delinquent!”

Yep, running helped here, too. Eventually, once he was out of range of the man’s yelling (How was it even possible for a Nobody to have such rage anyway?), the teen’s dashing came to a halt, and his hands fell to his knees as he gasped for breath. Phew. He didn’t know he had it in him. He supposed running away from bullies all his life must have put him in good shape. He huffed a bit longer, and once he caught his breath, he began to walk, and as he looked about him, he realized more than ever just how big this castle really was.

It wasn’t long before he found himself in a long, curving hallway, with various other passageways all leading off to the right. He looked down each hallway as he passed, seeing nothing down them but the same emptiness the city streets had. He picked a window completely at random and leaned out, looking up the outer wall of the castle to find a tall spire jutting out above him. This place was ridiculous. He would never find his room at this rate.

He retreated back inside to return to his fruitless ambling, sticking to the hallway following the outer wall. While he had no idea if this particular path would lead him to where he wanted to go, at least the windows were a comfort. He wandered for some time, occasionally finding himself outside, where he would have to walk up a set of steps, only to find himself lost in endless hallways again, silent except for the echo of his own footsteps. At least for now, he was grateful he couldn’t feel anything, otherwise, he’d be panicking right now. Like the time he got lost during his first day of middle school. And his first day of high school.

Dyme stopped upon reaching the outside again when he found Saix standing there, staring up at the sky. In every other circumstance, he would have turned the other way and left as quickly as possible (the guy had orange eyes, after all, which was pretty freaky), but he didn’t have any other options right now. He was getting nowhere, and he was really starting to need to go to the bathroom. He crept forward, breath held, and stopped not far behind him, putting off his appeal for help to gaze upward to try and find what was keeping the man’s interest, but the only thing Dyme could see was the small, glowing heart floating high above them. Kingdom Hearts. What a strange thing.

It took the teen several tries before he was able to speak. Would this guy be mad at him, too? This really didn’t seem like a guy you’d want to make angry. And normally, he’d think someone with blue hair would be less than intimidating. But, not this guy.

“S-Saix…”

The man made a slow turn, as if in a trance. “I thought number 8 was training you.”

“We’re…done.” It wasn’t a lie. They were.

“And do you need something?” The man’s face was emotionless, and it wasn’t until now that Dyme noticed that Saix appeared to be about the same age as Axel, though his orange eyes seemed to belong to someone much older than the face they gazed out from.

“I can’t find my room.” Of course, if he had _really_ trained with Axel, he’d be able to go straight there using one of those portals. Get ready to run again, Dyme.

Rather than reprimand him for his dishonesty, as expected, Saix just opened a portal nearby and returned to facing the heart in the sky. In shock from the lack of reproof (Saix would find out eventually, though, wouldn’t he?), Dyme considered thanking the man, but thought against pushing his luck. He ran through the portal to find himself outside his room, a simple grey “IX” on the door. Hey, that was his first time through one of those alone. That should at least count for something, right?

He went into his room, his small and plain, but safe, room, and fell back onto his bed, arms out from his sides. Today was a bad day. And now he was hungry. But, no way was he going out there again anytime soon. If he tried to find the kitchen, he’d probably only end up getting horribly lost again. He sighed and closed his eyes, wishing for a dream where he still had a heart.


	3. Water

Dyme’s wish for happy dreams didn’t come true. Figures. Instead, he found himself wandering that silent city again, with its empty, soulless buildings, except this time, the buildings began to grow, larger and larger, and then one began to bend towards him, and try as he may, he couldn’t outrun it, and it swallowed him up through one of those gaping windows like a hungry mouth with glass for teeth. And then there was nothing but a maze of dark rooms that all looked the same, and no matter where he went, he could never find his way out.

He opened his eyes to see nothing but white. Am I dead _this_ time? His stomach grumbled. No, he was still here. Still without a heart, but still alive, too. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. What time was it? He looked back to see it was still nighttime outside, but it always was, so that told him nothing. He got to his feet and left the room, again being reminded of how strange it was for a bedroom to have a sliding door. (And was it just him or did his room not have a lock? It wasn’t like he currently had anything in there, but he still didn’t like the thought of any weirdo being able to just walk into his room whenever they felt like it.)

Dyme headed off in an arbitrary direction, on the hunt for the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten in a whole day. This castle really needed signs. Or to be a lot smaller. This would be a problem if he got lost every time he wanted some orange juice. With his luck, they probably wouldn’t even have orange juice. Who was he kidding? _Everyone_ drank orange juice.

He wandered for some time, making mental notes along the way on the locations he _did_ manage to find so far. It was always good to know where the nearest bathroom was. Eventually, his efforts met with success. The kitchen turned out to be just as horribly white a room as all the others, with a wall of windows overlooking the same glum view of a night sky and that creepy city. It was furnished with what one would expect in a kitchen, in addition to a rectangular table and several chairs. And it was currently unoccupied, which meant that no one could pick on him for now. That was always nice.

His victory was made complete when he opened the fridge to find a carton of orange juice nestled in the top shelf on the inside of the door, like it was waiting there just for him. Dyme, today is your day. He grabbed the carton (which felt suspiciously light) and found himself a cup in one of the (white!) cabinets. Setting his cup down on the counter, he unscrewed the lid of the carton, but when he went to pour it, only one drop managed to struggle its way out. Dyme stared at the small, orange droplet as it landed in the cup and sat there, like a dead thing. He was certain he just _had_ to have a pretty genuine frown on his face right now.

“Ah, yeah, you can blame me for that.” Dyme looked over to find Xigbar strolling into the room. “And the funny thing is,” the man added with a grin, “I don’t even like orange juice.”

This guy drags me here and then has the nerve to drink the last of the orange juice? And how was he always so silent? He hadn’t heard him come in this time, either. Dyme stared at the man with what he hoped was a fair amount of annoyance before setting the empty carton down on the counter with more force than needed and returned to the fridge.

“The milk’s expired, too. Just thought you should know. We have the Dusks keep up with that kind of stuff, but they’re not always on top of things.”

“The what’s?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He would just have some dry cereal and water, then. If they even had cereal. Dyme looked back to find Xigbar sitting on the table, before he went about the task of searching for the cereal and the bowls, but the whole time, he could just feel the guy staring at him. With that weird, yellow eye. He had never seen people with such strange eye colors before, and now, in this place, there were several of them. If that guy wasn’t going to get anything, couldn’t he just leave?

“Why aren’t there any locks on the bedroom doors?” the teen said. It was all he could think to say, to break the silence.

“Why, what kind of things do you do in there when no one’s around?”

Dyme made no reply. Talking to this guy only succeeded in making things _more_ awkward, not less. There was the cereal. They had _something_ here, at least.

“And what would be the point,” the man continued, “in a place where everyone can just teleport wherever they want? Are you afraid your smelly, old socks are in danger? I don’t know about the others, but I know _I_ don’t want them. I have plenty of my own.”

Dyme poured the cereal into the bowl, some rather plain kind (no one liked marshmallows here?). Each piece clinked as it landed, the only sound currently in the room, their combined racket making him strangely self-conscious. Why was that guy not saying anything? Now it was weird when he didn’t.

He found a spoon and got himself some water from the sink before turning around. He couldn’t really sit down, though. Not with Xigbar over there. Dyme resigned himself to eating while standing up.

“The milk’s probably not _that_ expired, y’know. I drink expired milk all the time, and it’s never killed me,” Xigbar said.

“I did once, and it made me puke.” Kinda gross, but it was true.

“Then, I guess you shouldn’t.”

Dyme continued to spoon dry cereal into his mouth. It wasn’t that great, but at least it would stop his stomach from growling. He wished he knew how to make eggs, but he was pretty sure he was the most hopeless cook in the world. Just when he was considering taking his breakfast elsewhere (or whatever it would be, as he didn’t know what time it was), Xigbar broke the silence again.

“You know what they call this room?”

Dyme tried to swallow his cereal before answering. “The kitchen?” What kind of question was that?

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? For whatever reason, some of the other members got it in their heads, Xemnas mostly, that we ought to name all the rooms of the castle. They came up with all kinds of depressing ones. Addled Impasse. Nothing’s Call. Wanna guess what they came up with for _this_ room?”

Dyme stuffed another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He really had no idea.

“Lull in Despondency. I wanted to call it Void of Lost Crumbs, but they never like _my_ ideas.”

“Why would you want to call it that?” His words were muffled, his mouth full of cereal that seemed to possess the miraculous ability to become dryer the more he ate.

“You know how it is, don’t you? When you drop something in the kitchen, and you go to look for it, half the time you never find it again. Vexen says I’m just not looking hard enough, but I tell you, that stuff’s just gone.”

Dyme thought this quandary over. It _was_ true. He lost an entire apple slice once. Well, his grandma had found it under the fridge years later, but… Suddenly, he had lost his appetite.

The man stood. “Anyway, it’s about time I got to the real reason I came looking for you.”

Dyme put his bowl down on the counter. He had to be ready to flee, if it came to that.

Xigbar put his fists on his hips. “I heard that you haven’t been a good boy lately.”

Oh, crap, he knew he’d get in trouble eventually. He should’ve just let Axel train him. Stupid, stupid Dyme! He said nothing, for fear of somehow incriminating himself further, and started to inch towards the door.

The man continued as he watched the teen’s more-than-obvious efforts to sidle out of the room, “So out of the kindness of my heart, I’ve decided to train you myself. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re a runty, little kid.”

No, anything but this guy! Or Saix. Or that guy that yelled at him. He opened his mouth to protest, only to close it again. He had never won in an argument against Xigbar before, and there was little chance of it now.

Xigbar smiled that toothy smile. “That’s what I like to hear.” He opened a portal nearby.

“Doesn’t anyone ever walk around here?”

“Walking’s overrated.”

***---***

Dyme found himself not outside, as he had expected, but in a large room inside the castle (with a blue floor; finally, some color). He looked up to find an upper walkway along one wall, and higher still, he noticed that the wall and ceiling above were glass, through which he could see massive towers and the small heart in the sky. It would have been a rather nice room, all things considered, if there didn’t appear to be a bottomless pit between much of the walls and floor. Who left a bottomless pit in a place where people walked?

“This is the Hall of Empty Melodies,” Xigbar said as the portal closed. “See, I told ya the rooms have depressing names.”

Empty melodies? Now that _was_ depressing. “I don’t see the point of trying all this again,” Dyme said as he watched Xigbar stroll by, obviously in no hurry. “I tried for over an hour yesterday, and I got nowhere.”

“Axel’s apparently a bad teacher, then. We’re not leaving this room until you’ve learned what I want you to learn.”

“But, that’s going to take forever!” He should’ve eaten more.

The man stopped and turned back to him. “I’m not saying you’ll be good at it yet. So, what seems to be the problem?”

“Everything.”

“I doubt it’s everything.”

“I can’t do magic. I’ve never done it before, and I never will.” Though, perhaps he shouldn’t be _too_ uncooperative. What if he got someone even worse next time?

Xigbar shook an admonishing finger at him. “Not with _that_ attitude, you won’t. I could bore you with the science of how it works, but it’s not necessary because magic’s actually pretty simple. Even whiny, little twerps like you are perfectly capable of it. To make things easier, let’s just focus on one element. Which one do you want? Fire, ice, lightning…”

He had the perfect one in mind. “Water?”

“I don’t know what you can really do with _that_ , but sure, water it is, then. Now just…picture it in your head.”

This wasn’t going to work, but why not? Dyme thought of the first image that came to mind, the ocean he had sat before so many times, its waves lapping along a smooth, sandy shore as he played his music and sang to that mysterious expanse in front of him. There were times where it felt like they were perfectly in sync, like they were one, and he could just imagine how each wave took one of his worries and carried it far, far away, down to the deepest depths of the sea, where it would never bother him again. And he also pictured in his mind the way the waves would come in, and just for that second as one rose up, how the sun would shine through it, turning it the most beautiful crystal blue. He had only been away from it for a short time, but oh, how he missed it.

“Do you have it?”

Dyme nodded, eyes closed. He certainly did.

“Good. Now you just gotta take all that water in your head, and make it real in this room.”

Sure, he could _picture_ water just fine, but making it appear completely out of thin air was another matter entirely. He tried to concentrate on that familiar image, but his mind wandered instead to thoughts of what would happen once he failed his training with Xigbar, too. Maybe if he closed his eyes tighter…no, he had tried that last time, and it didn’t work.

“Would you open your eyes already? That’s not how you do it. People that do magic with their eyes closed are as bad as people who sing with their eyes closed. You’re not one of those people that nap while they sing, are you, Mr. Wandering Musician?”

“No.” Sometimes. Okay, yes. Yes, he was.

“You’re trying too hard. People that make a big deal of magic usually have the hardest time. You gotta just let it happen. Try again.”

He could stand around “letting it happen” all day, and nothing actually would. He knew other people could do it, but there were a lot of things other people could do that he couldn’t. He simply stared at the man, and Xigbar frowned at him.

“Okay, now you’re just standing there.”

“You told me I was trying too hard.” Just leave me alone already and let me be a failure in peace.

“Now you’re not trying at all. It’s easy as long as you don’t keep telling yourself that you can’t do it. I know you can. Once you get that in your head, you’ll have no problem.”

So Dyme continued to try. And continued to fail. Just as he knew he would. It seemed Xigbar had much more confidence in his abilities than he did. The man simply made lazy circles about the room, giving encouragement when needed. Some time later, just as Dyme thought he might finally be getting close to making something happen, _still_ nothing did. And Xigbar showed no signs of letting him quit.

“Hey, kiddo, how do you play your music?”

Dyme looked over to find the man gazing up at Kingdom Hearts. “I don’t know. I just practiced a lot, and now I just play.”

He gave the teen a sideways look with his good eye. “And it’s easy, right?”

“Yeah.” Even if he was bad at math and sports and, well, obviously magic, music was always something that just came naturally to him. It didn’t even require much thought anymore.

“Well, then just think of magic like that. It takes the same amount of effort, once you get good at it. If you can learn to play an instrument, then you can create water out of nothing, too.” He barked out a laugh. “As crazy as it sounds, it’s true.”

If magic really could come as easily as music, then he really should have no problem. He didn’t see how that was possible, but maybe that was some advice he could actually use. Dyme thought, not about magic this time, but about his music. How he could just pick up his guitar and play without a second thought. The process was slow at first. There were so many things he had to learn originally. Where the notes were on the strings and about reading music and chords and all that. But, the first time he had plucked the guitar strings and had made it through his first song, he just knew he had to keep at it so he could become better.

Nothing had ever called to him quite the way that music did, the way it allowed him to create emotion from sound, to make people happy or cry just from a song. And so he got to learning all the things any musician should know. And now, many years later, it was as easy as walking or breathing. He didn’t have to force it. In fact, he had learned early on that such things only made him play worse.

He had also found that he was most at peace when playing on the beach. Music and water went hand-in-hand. When he was really into his music, it flowed like water and so did the words that accompanied it. And after he played, sometimes he would listen closely, and he could swear that he heard a song in the sound of the waves, as if they were singing back a response.

Dyme imagined how the ocean’s gentle sighing sounded in the background when he would play his guitar and wished he could be there again. He extended an arm out in front of himself, and he couldn’t believe it when a ball of water began to form, just hovering there over the palm of his hand. It shimmered and grew until it was about the size of his fist, as clear as those waves when the sun shone through them. He stared at it, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“I did it. Do you see…” As soon as he spoke, the ball collapsed, splashing onto his hand, a wet glove and droplets on the floor the only sign it had ever existed.

“Bravo, kid. Now do it again,” Xigbar said.

“What kind of magic can _you_ do?” he said, though his attention remained on his rather moist glove. He had made water out of nothing. He was amazing.

“Maybe I’ll show you, if you’re a good boy.”

He looked up. “I’m _always_ a good boy.” His grandma said so, and she wouldn’t lie. Not about something like that.

The man laughed. “That’s not what some of the others think. In addition to worming your way outta your last training session, it seems you’ve also made enemies with Vexen, as well.”

“Who?” That guy he ran into didn’t tattle on him, did he? That was an accident. People were supposed to cut you some slack for accidents.

“The guy you bumped into. He was still fuming over the containers you broke. Don’t worry about it, though. He was bound to hate you eventually. I know he hates _me_ plenty.” The man appeared deep in thought, arms crossed and a fist to his chin. “I can’t imagine what he could possibly dislike about _me_ , though. Have any ideas?”

Dyme shook his head. Well, you _did_ drink all the orange juice.

“All right, let’s see those water skills again. Impress me.”

The teen proceeded to think those same thoughts again. He could do this. He did it before, and he could do it again. He thrust out an arm and began to concentrate on the space above his hand. Come on, Dyme. Do it! What’s wrong with you!

“What I say about trying too hard?”

Oh, right. Dyme put his effort into _not_ putting in effort, something he was actually quite good at, and it wasn’t long before another ball of water was forming over his hand, this one bigger than the one before. He put out his other hand as it began to grow even larger, and it wasn’t long before it had become over a foot across.

“That’s really not necessary.”

Stop talking! Must concentrate!

“Just put your arms down.”

Fine. Dyme dropped his arms back down to his sides, and the water continued to float before him. He really could use magic now. In your face, all the people that thought he was nothing! Dyme raised his arms in victory, inadvertently sending the water ball careening straight ahead. He froze, staring wide-eyed at Xigbar, who was now thoroughly wet and gazing down at his soaked coat with as much shock as his accidental attacker. The man looked up slowly, wiping water from his face with one hand, and Dyme wished he had learned how to make portals first.

He watched the man as he blinked water out of his eye, and the teen said the first thing that came to mind. “That’s for drinking all the orange juice.” What was he thinking? He should be apologizing right now. Or running for his life.

He received a dumbfounded stare in response, and then a grin appeared on Xigbar’s face, not quite the terrifying murderer smile Dyme was normally accustomed to seeing, however, and the man released a short laugh. “You’re lucky I don’t make a habit of beating up runts.” He shook his head to rid himself of what water still clung to his face and hair, and added, “Just don’t do it again, or you’re going to get it.”

Close one, Dyme. You’re probably not going to die today, after all. He attempted a smile of his own, one of relief at having survived a possible near-death experience. If he could do magic now, surely he was capable of smiling again. That should be easy.

“That reminds me, your face is another thing we’re going to have to work on,” Xigbar said as he wiped away any water he had missed from his forehead.

He _knew_ his face looked weird. You lied, Axel. “Are my expressions _still_ all wrong?”

Xigbar nodded, looking far too amused at the teen’s shortcoming. “Yup. I’m sure part of the problem is you simply have a dopey face. The other part is you’re still just bad at proper facial expressions.”

“But, why do you guys pretend anyway?” Sure, he didn’t want to keep looking stupid, but why did they bother in the first place? They all knew they were Nobodies.

“It makes some of us feel like we still have hearts. Well, not _feel_ , but you know what I mean. Plus, we can’t let the regular people know there’s something different about us, now can we? People don’t like what’s different, and there’s no better way to draw unwanted attention to ourselves than going around acting like the empty husks that we are. Just another important thing you gotta learn. Now, show me your happy face.”

“Promise you won’t make fun.”

“Promise.”

Dyme forced his face, carefully, into what he thought was an authentic smile. Immediately, the man barked out a laugh, and the teen withdrew his obviously failed smile.

“No, no, no! That’s terrible! You’re going to scare people with a face like that!”

“You said you wouldn’t make fun.”

“I say a lotta things, miniature dude. You’re gonna have to practice in front of a mirror a bunch, or else you’ll have to keep that hood up to save everyone from looking at your freakish face.” As if that wasn’t enough, he added, “And don’t forget to work on your voice, too. It’s hardly any better.”

His face wasn’t freakish. And he wasn’t miniature, either. He was 15. He was still growing. As Xigbar got over another fit of laughter at his expense, Dyme directed a frown at the man. Drinks all my orange juice, then makes fun of my face and my height. And my voice.

The man sniggered once more, then said, “Well, at least you’ve got the angry look down. That seems to be an easy one for a lotta people. Okay, Demyx, let’s try opening a portal now. Use the same trick as with the water, ‘cept not.”

“Huh?” It’s not Demyx…. Oh, why did he bother?

“The darkness is all around us, and now that we don’t have hearts that can get corrupted by it, we can use it to travel wherever we like. Just call to it like you did with the water.”

Dyme swallowed. He didn’t like the idea of messing around with darkness, even without a heart. “You sure it’s safe?”

“Promise,” Xigbar said and grinned.

The teen tried to focus on the darkness like he did with the water, but this didn’t come so easily. He had seen the empty place where the portals led. A place that he wondered might also reside in those buildings in the city. Nothingness. Just an empty void that could swallow him up, just like the Heartless did to his world, and never let him free again.

He struggled for some time, both calling on the darkness and holding it back. Just like the water, but not, huh? Okay, you can get this, Dyme. You’re on a roll today. You made water appear and didn’t even get murdered when you threw that same water at this frightening guy in front of you. He focused on the portal in his mind and how easily everyone else could make one, and at first, there was nothing, and then…

Dyme watched as a black portal opened up several feet away. He did it! Who would ever believe that he was actually capable of such things. Simple, dopey Dyme. Hey, now _he_ was calling himself names.

“And there ya have it. I knew you had it in you, kid. You just keep practicing, and you’ll be good in no time,” Xigbar said.

“Now you have to show me _your_ magic,” Dyme said, the portal closing as he lost concentration.

“I don’t have to show you anything.”

“You said you would if I was a good boy. And I was.”

“ _Were_ you?”

Dyme nodded. Of course, he was. That whole water thing was an accident. Just like that thing with Vexen. Did _everyone_ hold grudges around here?

“Well, I have some things I gotta do,” the man said as he opened a portal of his own. “Meet me back here for more training tomorrow, then, _maybe_ I’ll show you.”

“I thought we were done.”

Xigbar shook his head. “Nope, you still don’t know how to fight yet. And you need to choose a weapon.”

“But, I don’t want to fight. Doesn’t anyone get that?” Dyme said, but Xigbar was already heading for the portal.

The man looked back, just for a second. “Back here. Tomorrow. See ya, kid.” And then he was gone.

Alone to his thoughts once again, Dyme pondered further over this unpleasant idea. Learning how to do magic and open portals didn’t end up being so bad, after all, but he just knew he could never fight anyone. Even if he learned how, he still wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it. Not that he’d likely be very successful at it anyway. He’d probably get himself killed or terribly maimed on his first attempt. And why would fighting be involved in building the heart in the sky anyway? He found his gaze rising upward to land on the glowing object high above. It didn’t look any bigger. Hurry up already, so I can have my life back.

He sighed and made another ball of water. He watched it float in front of him, just hovering at chest level, and he twisted it in his mind, his thoughts becoming real as the ball changed shape, stretching and contorting until it looked the way he wanted it. A heart. A heart made of water, reflecting a rippling version of his face back at him, distorted, as if what it was reflecting was distorted, as well. The person standing here _looked_ human enough, but was he if he had no heart, one of the most important things a person could have? He opened a portal, still surprised at the fact that he was even able to do so, and returned to his room.


	4. Music

A face looked back at him from the bathroom mirror, a comb poised nearby. A can of hair gel he had borrowed from Axel (to his relief, the guy seemed to harbor no ill will towards him for his past behavior, which he now admitted, may have been a little bratty, but only a little), a small trash can, and a pair of scissors were lined up on the counter in front of him. He combed back his hair and then, practicing the best dissatisfied frown he could manage, he put the comb down and got hair gel onto his hands, and with a face contorted into concentration, he got to work sculpting his hair, with no clear goal in mind.

He tried one thing after another, but nothing quite worked. Blinking at the mess that was currently residing on his head, he picked up the scissors, despite his fingers now being wet with gel, and he began to cut a few strands here and a few there, alternating between trying out new styles with the gel and using the scissors. When this failed to result in the look he was going for, not that he was necessarily sure what that look even was, he just grabbed a bunch of his hair and formed it into a mohawk of sorts.

Readjusting his expression until it showed the correct amount of satisfaction at having gotten a step closer to a hairstyle that just might work, he got to combing the rest of his hair back. But, something was off about it. Some of it was just too long. He went about snipping away at it again. No, still too long. Shrugging, he clipped a good deal of his hair off in the back, the hair around his temple and ear now cut close. That might work. He did the same on the other side. Yep, that wasn’t too bad. More combing and cutting and a bit more gel, and then he pulled a few strands loose to fall in his face. The corners of his lips turned up, and he continued to work on his face until a smile formed. He looked happy. He didn’t feel it, but at least no one would know just by looking at him.

“That’s it.…” No, too little feeling. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s…that’s it. That’s the look.” He nodded at the teen in the mirror, now much different in appearance with his new hair, and fixed the grin that he almost dropped. “Nice to meet you…Demyx.”

He raised a hand, changing back to his rehearsed concentration face, and directed a stream of water much larger than he intended at the mirror. “Shoot. I mean, shoot!” He grabbed a towel and wiped it dry, leaving circular streaks all over the mirror, but when he tried to remove these, he only succeeded in creating vertical streaks. Ah, whatever.

Demyx left the bathroom, hair gel in tow. He walked down the hallway until he found Axel’s room, door marked with an “VIII”. He stopped before it, fist raised to knock, then shrugged and simply set the can down in front of the door. It was easier that way.

It was nearing the time he needed to meet Xigbar for more training. While he had been busy over the last day (busy for him, at least) practicing his control over water (which was too awesome), opening and closing portals once or twice (that was good enough, right?), and practicing his facial expressions and the emotion in his voice, with a good deal of lying around thrown in, he was not ready for what today held.

Demyx would not fight. He disliked the idea of hurting someone almost as much as he disliked the idea of getting hurt himself (plus, when he did finally defend himself and punch a bully in the nose once, he only got beaten up more as a result). Not to mention the fact that physical activity might make him sweaty, which would be gross. And so it was for this reason that, even after all this time had passed, he hadn’t bothered to think up a weapon. That was just not him. Only a guitar felt right in his hands. Nothing else.

Perhaps he should get going soon. Or was there a chance that Xigbar might forget…?

“Hey, mulhawk, you ready?”

Demyx spun around to face the other way, but no one presented themselves. He was certain he had just heard Xigbar.

“Why don’t you try thinking outside the box?”

The teen faced the other way, but the hallway remained empty.

“Are you kidding me? Just look up already!”

Demyx did just that, but he was too shocked to form the corresponding expression when he found Xigbar floating a good fifteen feet above him. Sitting cross-legged. Upside down. The man gave him a big grin. “Show me your happy face.”

He made the smile he had practiced, wondering, nevertheless, if he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing or if the expired milk was playing tricks on him. He knew he shouldn’t have had any, but he was desperate. The cereal was just so dry.

“That’s a good boy.” Xigbar stood (still upside down, which equated to a most bizarre sight if there ever was one), and Demyx stepped back as the man dropped down.

“How’d you do that?”

The man leaned forward, as if sharing a secret, and Demyx couldn’t help but lean in, as well. “Magic, kid.”

“Well, I knew that, but…”

Xigbar opened a portal. “Let’s go. I promise I won’t beat you _too_ hard.”

Demyx’s eyes went wide. All he had was water. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Hey, it’s a joke. Come on.”

When they arrived back in the Hall of Empty Melodies, they were greeted with the sound of rain pattering on the glass ceiling and the muffled rumble of thunder. The sky above was pitch black between flashes of lightning, the only consistent light their world ever got, that of Kingdom Hearts, currently choked out by the brooding storm clouds. With the all-encompassing darkness outside, Demyx wondered more than ever where the light _inside_ the castle came from, while Xigbar took his position a short distance away, with a grin that said he looked forward to what came next. Demyx, on the other hand, did not.

“Have you thought about what weapon you wanna use? Because I’m guessing you haven’t.”

Demyx made his face into the most dejected look he was able. “I don’t want to fight. I’m gonna die.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“And I…” Oh, why did he bother arguing? This guy didn’t care. The teen sighed. “I don’t have to fight _you_ , do I?”

“As if! I’d destroy you, kid!” The man shook his head, chuckling. “No, you’ll be practicing on the Dusks.”

As if in response to some unspoken call, several strange, white creatures appeared, three of them in total, thin, spindly things that appeared to bend in ways that weren’t natural.

“I’m sure you’re gonna ask anyway, so I’ll just tell ya. Dusks are the Nobodies whose hearts weren’t strong enough to keep their human shape,” Xigbar said. Demyx opened his mouth, finding yet another thing on a long list of topics he didn’t understand, but the man continued over him, “But, since you and I and the other members of the Organization had the strongest hearts of all, that’s why we still look the way we did when we were Somebodies.”

Demyx looked back at the Dusks, watching them sway back and forth as he tried to get some very bothersome details straight in his head. Dusks were Nobodies. And _he_ was a Nobody. So that meant he was the same kind of being as a Dusk? No way! He was a monster! Forcing his gaze away from the bizarre creatures, he asked, “What’s this thing about strong hearts? That’s the only thing keeping me from looking like a Dusk?” They couldn’t have been human once. They looked so different.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But, I didn’t have a strong heart.” And he was supposed to have an _extra_ strong heart? That didn’t make any sense. Frankly, he was the weakest person he knew.

“You obviously must have, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“But, how do you have a strong heart? What does that even mean?” If his heart got weaker, would he turn into a Dusk? Wait, he no longer even had a heart to begin with, so how did that work?

“It’s complicated, and while I _could_ stand here all day answering your questions about strong hearts and Nobodies and all that, right now, you gotta learn how to fight.” Xigbar gestured to the Dusks, who were still awaiting further instruction nearby, and his face took on a rare air of seriousness. “Now let’s see how your silly water powers stand up to them”

Demyx glanced over at the Dusks, then back at him. They were just standing there, minding their own business. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care what you want.”

“They were people once.”

“Not anymore.”

Demx frowned at the man. “You said yesterday that you’d show me what magic you can do. You have to show me first.”

“I’m not going to bargain with you, kid. I outrank you so much it’s not even funny.”

“Which number are you?”

“It actually has nothing to do with numbers, kid.”

“But, which one?” Demyx crossed his arms. Crossed arms always said you meant business.

“Two, okay? And what do you think that was just now in the hallway? In case you didn’t know, not everyone can float in the air.”

“Still.” Number _two_? Regardless of whether or not the numbers actually meant anything, that was still a number that was much better than his. Not to let Xigbar know that this knowledge greatly reduced his confidence, though he did cross his arms tighter, even if he was, in actuality, pretty much just hugging himself now, he looked the man in the eye and said, “I’ll fight if you show me more of your magic, and if you tell me what it means to have a strong heart.” Surely there must be other ways of becoming a Nobody. A wimpy, little crybaby like him did not have a strong heart. Losers didn’t have strong hearts.

Xigbar rolled that golden wolf eye of his and let out a sound of pure exasperation. “Sure, I promise for real this time that I’ll show you what I can do, but only _after_ you do what I tell you. And about the other thing, you’ll be stuck with us for quite a while longer, so there will be plenty of time for me to answer your silly, little questions later. Okay? Are we good?”

“I guess.” He eyed the Dusks again to find the things to still be watching him. At least, he could only assume they were watching him because they didn’t appear to have eyes. As strange as they were, though, he couldn’t hurt them. What if they felt pain? _He_ still could, so shouldn’t _they_ be able to?

“So get to it, then. You had no trouble assaulting _me_ yesterday.”

“That was an accident.”

“Stop procrastinating.” He waved an arm at the spindly creatures. “We’re not leaving until you do it.”

Demyx turned back to the Dusks and took a deep breath. He had no idea how _they_ must feel about this. Well, not feel, but they didn’t even have much of a face to pretend with, either. He readied himself and formed a ball of water before him. I’m sorry. I really am. He threw the ball at the one on the far left, but it only bent out of the way, the water continuing on to splash against the wall behind it.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, kiddo.”

He sent another ball at the creatures and then another, but they neatly avoided each.

“Huh, I guess it’s true what they say about blondes….”

Demyx glared back at the man, receiving only a sly smile in response, before turning back to the Dusks. Okay, now this was starting to get annoying. With his mouth set in a tight line, he continued trying to hit the creatures with water of all shapes and sizes, but his targets managed to bend and slither this way and that, as if they were boneless. They probably were. Xigbar’s laughter could be heard from behind. I knew I was going to stink at fighting. Why does no one listen to me?

“You know what you need? More motivation.”

The Dusks lunged at him, and he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get away. He glimpsed something strange out of the corner of his eye, but before he could catch what had caused it, he looked over to see that Xigbar was gone. He didn’t leave me, did he? He looked upward to find the man floating high above, standing upside down and gazing down at him. “Don’t look at _me_.”

Demyx staggered sideways as one of the Dusks struck him. What the heck! That really hurt! And I was trying to be nice! He threw more balls of water at the offending creature, and when this didn’t work, he summoned several pillars of water, getting his face sprayed with a fine mist as they rose up, and the Dusk disappeared as it was struck. Did he kill it? He hadn’t meant to do _that_.

Backing away, he had no choice but to repeat the process until the remaining two Dusks were gone. Before he could rest, however, a larger group appeared and began coming at him, some zigzagging through the air, while others moved towards him with bizarre, stretched strides. He continued his backwards retreat, all the while hoping he didn’t reach the edge of the floor space (once again, bottomless pits were stupid to have in a building) as he summoned water in a frantic effort to rid himself of his attackers. Even though he managed to take out a few, they began to surround him, and he was knocked on his face when one he hadn’t known was back there attacked him from behind.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Xigbar said, and there was the sound of something being fired, and when the teen finally managed to bring himself to glance up from his cowering, the surrounding Dusks were all fading away. He lifted his head further to see Xigbar striding over with two strangely shaped, purple gun-like weapons in his hands, which disappeared when he stopped a short distance away. The man jerked his head upward, and Demyx picked himself up off the ground and put a hand to his now aching back. “And that, little dude, is why you need a weapon.”

That’s why I shouldn’t fight. His shoulders sagged. “I told you I couldn’t fight. I told you.”

“You did fine for your first try. Now think of what kind of weapon you want to fight with. You can summon it just like everything else.”

He’d look absolutely ridiculous with any sort of a weapon. Demyx imagined himself in an action stance, sword in hand and with the most formidable expression he could possibly think of, an image that was enough to make even a Nobody laugh. What in the worlds should he go with, then, that wouldn’t make him look even more like a loser? He put a hand to his forehead in thought. “I can just make _anything_ appear?”

“Something like that.”

Demyx’s gaze rose to the storm clouds above, Kingdom Hearts still impossible to spot, though it didn’t much matter, as he was certain it was still just as small as last time he had seen it. It wouldn’t be complete for who knew how long, but heart or no heart, he couldn’t go that long without his guitar. He grinned. Well, it was certainly worth a try.

He began to concentrate in much the same way as he had with the water, his mind wandering back to the sea and those lonely days turned tranquil thanks to his music. An object began to appear, and he put out his arms to catch it.

“No, you’re not using that,” Xigbar said, pointing to the instrument now resting in the teen’s arms. “You can’t fight with a guitar.”

Demyx bent over his new instrument, studying it. It was blue like he wanted, but something was off. “It’s a sitar, actually.” Even though the guitar was most definitely his favorite instrument of all time, he always enjoyed learning about other kinds of instruments and about their own unique sounds. This particular instrument only had three strings, but he could learn to play it. He strummed his hand over the strings, a clear sound ringing out over the room. This could work. It really could. He looked back up at the man, a large smile on his face as Xigbar squinted at him in confusion.

“You really think you can use that?”

“I think I can manage.” He wasn’t going to be fighting anyway. His “weapon” may as well be something he could actually make use of. “And now you have to show me more of what _you_ can do. You can’t get out of it a second time.”

“How do you know your training’s over?”

“Oh, _can’t_ it be?” Demyx said, forcing his voice into the most imploring tone he could. If this guy wouldn’t have mercy on him from his words alone, perhaps his _tone_ would sicken the guy into giving him a break. Shouldn’t have told me to work on my emotion. My nauseatingly bad begging worked on my grandma, and I’ll make it work on you, too.

Apparently it _was_ working because Xigbar cringed at him. “Quit looking at me like that.” Yes! Worked every time. “Fight off a few more Dusks, and then I’ll show you.”

Demyx frowned. Darn it. Failed. Gotta work on that some more. Maybe it doesn’t have the same effect on Nobodies. He sighed. “You _promise_ this time?”

“Yep.”

“Promise promise?”

“I promise promise promise.” He then added, “Cross my heart,” and mimicked the gesture with one finger, sniggering as he drew an X over his chest.

The teen groaned as the space before him bent, and the man disappeared. Was he going to get out of his promise again? He looked up to direct a glare at the man, now standing high above him again, upside down as usual. The angry look really _was_ an easy one.

“Stop starin’ at me, kid. I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me or something.”

What? Demyx’s head shot to the side as more Dusks appeared, a good twenty or so of them. “Hey, you said a few!”

“Woops. My bad.”

The teen watched the creatures as they came towards him, realizing now that he was already cornered before his newest battle had even begun. How _was_ he going to fight with a sitar? All it was good for in a situation like this was whacking something. He sent a few more large bubbles of water at the Dusks, but they avoided them, just like before. Gah, stupid things. He settled for using his water pillars again to take out several of them, but the ones he missed drew closer, forcing him to step back. His heel went over the edge of the floor space, and he worked to correct himself, clutching the sitar tighter than ever. It was really just getting in the way, but if he let it go, what if he could never get it back? He held it up to shield himself from any blows the Dusks might attempt to land on him. I don’t wanna die! I’m too young! And wimpy!

He winced as the Dusks closed in, only to witness each creature being struck by a white arrow before fading away. He glanced up to see Xigbar with those guns again and couldn’t help but wonder if the man got dizzy upside down like that.

“I won’t always be around to bail you out, little dude. You gotta take out the next group yourself, so either put that silly thing away or use it. Hugging it isn’t going to help you.”

He loosened his grip on the sitar he had indeed been embracing as more Dusks appeared. It didn’t look like this would be over until he actually took some sort of action. Ah, man, I hope I don’t sweat. He took a deep breath and began to walk towards them, forcing feet forward that wanted to head in the other direction, and fast. The teen set his face in a determined expression. He could do this. His head went down, his eyes scanning over the strings of the sitar, and he began to play. He had never played a sitar before, and being unfamiliar with the locations of the notes, it made the most dreadful racket. But, he was a musician, and music was all he knew.

As he plucked the strings, he started getting some idea of where each note resided, and his racket formed itself into some semblance of a song. And this song he made to direct the water with much more precision than he could have done without it, and it wasn’t long before all of the Dusks were gone. _That’s_ how you fight with a sitar.

He looked up as Xigbar appeared nearby and gave the teen a satisfied nod. “And that’s that, I guess.”

Demyx let the sitar fade. “Now you have to do what you promised.”

“What do you say?”

He thought for a moment, before answering, “Please?”

Xigbar chuckled, then, tilted his head in thought. “You know, the other members already think I’m arrogant enough without me showing off to the newbies.”

“Well, I asked.”

“All right, then. Watch closely, ‘cause I’m only gonna do this once.” He added, “And stay still.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Demyx watched as the space around Xigbar bent, and the man disappeared just as several dozen Dusks appeared. Before the teen could disobey the man’s orders (and he was fully considering it) at the sight of the oncoming Nobodies, Xigbar appeared upside down in another part of the room, firing at the Dusks with his bizarre guns, any shots that missed only to be redirected by miniature portals that would appear and blink out just like that, and though the man’s shots bounced about the room, never were they in danger of striking the teen. Seconds later, each and every Dusk was gone, and Xigbar appeared before him again.

“So, what’dya think?”

“What kind of magic was _that_?” Demyx asked. No way would he ever be that good. Never ever.

“Awesome magic. What else? See, I keep my promises occasionally.” The man grinned, then, added, “So, I guess that concludes our little tutorial. Anything else you wanna bug me with, or are we done here?”

There was. Just one more thing. “Xigbar, how come you wasted your time to train me?”

The man gave a half-hearted shrug. “Why not?”

“If you rank a lot higher than me, why would you bother when you could make someone else do it?”

“Do you need answers for everything, kid?”

“But…”

“Keep practicing, okay?” The toothy grin returned. “I’ll see ya later.” A black portal opened up, and he was gone.

Demyx stood there in thought as more thunder rumbled outside, then, shrugged. No one ever really bothered with him when they didn’t have to. His grandma was nice to him and everything, but she _had_ to be. She was his grandma. But, maybe he was just thinking too much into things. He opened his own portal a few feet away, but let it close again. No, let’s try it _this_ way. After a few attempts, he opened a portal right where he stood and took himself back to his room.

He plopped down on the bed and bid his sitar to appear, a familiar weight in his hands and lap. He ran his thumb over the strings. It was time to learn how to play this thing. He worked on finding each note, writing their locations to his mind, and as the eternal night of the World That Never Was wore on, his plucking began to form into a song, a slow, mournful tune with a few missed notes, a tune that tried to fill the empty void inside his chest. If he no longer had the ability to feel with a heart, he would just have to feel through his music, then. And as he started to get into the song, missing fewer and fewer notes as he did so, his music turned into a faster, more cheerful thing as he tried to force something akin to happiness into his chest. Things wouldn’t be so bad, after all, as long as he had his music to keep him company.


End file.
